


Paper Planes

by TheUsualSuspect



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Felicity attacks Oliver with an umbrella, Fluff, Oliver breaks into felicity’s apartment, cannon flexible, kinda hurt / comfort, less hurt more comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUsualSuspect/pseuds/TheUsualSuspect
Summary: Felicity has a toothache and doesn’t want to go to the Dentist. Eventually, she gives in when Oliver offers to go with her. Essentially, Felicity gets high on happy gas and starts talking about Oliver to Oliver.Alternate Title: Caring Is Just Another Way to LOVE.
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 6
Kudos: 114





	Paper Planes

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t watched S8 yet and am avoiding it like the PLAGUE!  
> Enjoy.  
> P.S I’m not a Dentist so sorry if the dental stuff isn’t all correct.

**Paper Planes**

Felicity Smoak had dragged her sleep sullen body out of bed this morning, wanting nothing more than a cold shower and a hot pot of coffee. The shower soothed her skin, battling against the sticky sweat the night’s heat had baptised her in. The coffee only succeeded in burning her mouth and causing pain to once again shoot from her tooth to the nerves along her jaw. She clamped her mouth shut and pressed her heel into her kitchen floor. Her jaw throbbed, her back molar firing all its missiles and with that: it’s pain signals.  
Today would be a long day and no amount of coffee could help that. Especially if she couldn’t drink it.

She made it into Palmer Tech and through most of her day; keeping her talking and eating to a bare minimum, although she did contemplate the attractiveness of a feeding tube when she felt her stomach growl at the thought of lunch. Her head ached; worse than the flu, worse than her last hangover- her mistake for going drinking with Oliver and Digg because she discovered their phenomenal immunity to alcohol, or maybe just to hangovers. By the time she’d left for the day and headed out to the Bunker, she’d cushioned a tea bag around her tooth. It had been a last ditch attempt at dulling the pain, something she remembered reading online once. She hadn’t realised how well it was working until she threw it out before entering the Bunker, not needing a conversation with neither Diggle nor Oliver about her needing to go to the dentist.  
Unfortunately, for her, they knew her too well by now to let her hide her pain. Digg had noticed her clear discomfort and had now been nagging her about it for the last fifteen minutes as they were awaiting the arrival of Oliver back from his patrol.  
“I’m just saying Felicity,” he reasoned, “putting up with this has got to be more painful than going to the dentist.”  
“No.”  
She wasn’t looking at him, opting for her computer screens and short sentences instead.  
“No.” She repeated.  
“What have you got against the dentist?”  
“No.”  
“No?” Diggle had the audacity to let out a small chuckle, “that doesn’t answer my question Felicity.”  
She turned around in her chair, her arms folded against her chest, hoping her body language would be more convincing in dropping the topic than her currently limited vocabulary. But she knew from one look at his stance that he wasn’t moving off his platform of concern.  
“Digg...” she let out a frustrated sigh, “I don’t like needles. I don’t like needles in my mouth.”  
“You sure it wouldn’t be worth getting rid of this… pain?”  
“I’m not in pain.”  
Digg’s eyebrows raised in protest, but Oliver’s words cut into their conversation instead.  
“I could hear your toothache over the comms Felicity.”  
She groaned at him.  
“You need to go to the dentist.”  
She raised her eyebrows and jabbed an accusing finger at Oliver.  
“Pot. Kettle. Black.”  
He clenched his jaw slightly. Trust her to always call him out on his bullshit, especially when he was being hypocritical. 

She started rummaging through her handbag and eventually produced her water bottle and a tea bag.  
“No comment,” she warned, dunking the bag into the bottle before placing the tea bag onto her tooth.  
She rolled back from her keyboard slightly and hung her head back in her chair, clearly finding a little comfort in the compress.  
Oliver moved towards their first aid drawers in search of the strongest pain killer they held. Filing through unidentifiable, packet-less sleeves of medication they’d scrounged together over the years in the most, and probably only, disorganised part of the bunker. After climbing past the expired codeine, the empty packet of oxycodone and a stray handful of what looked to be valium of some sort he found the clove oil and some diclofenac tablets. Not ideally strong as what he was searching for, but for now they would relieve some of the pain.

After jamming the drawers back into submission, he handed both of them to Felicity.  
“Take four,” he said, indicating the tablets.  
She raised an eyebrow.  
“And I think we all know by now that natural medicines have their virtue.”  
He set the clove oil down next to her.  
“Trust me,” his voice was soft, “we don’t have to be heroes all the time.”  
He’d have to be an idiot not to realise why Felicity was being so stubborn. Friends rubbed off against each other. She was definitely taking a leaf out of one of his books: _Pig Headed Stubborness: A How To_ , and _That Time I had My Head So Far Up My Ass (I Needed an Oral Surgeon to Remove It)_. Either way she’d gotten it from him. The look of insistence on his face though, was all it took for her to succumb, taking the tablets and applying the oil to her molar.  
“Go home and get some rest,” Oliver pleaded.  
“It’s just a toothache,” she argued, “not the flu.”  
“I promise not to do anything dangerous while you are away.”  
He could tell by the set of her jaw and the creased edges of her narrowed eyes, that she was not ready to budge. 

It took more coercing and threats to pick her up and carry her home, but eventually after having Digg promise to not let Oliver do anything stupid or to back him up if he was going to do it anyway, she was persuaded. Her shoulders were stiff from sitting at her desk all day tensing her shoulders every time her tooth simmered in agony. Also, she didn’t need Oliver to follow through on his promise to carry her home, she didn’t need him that close to her. She didn’t trust her body to react appropriately when he was that close to her. Always a shudder in her breath, a slant in her step, her face lighting up with unintentional innuendos. His touch always leaving flutters of goosebumps in its wake. The thought of how light she would feel in his arms, how her head could rest on his shoulder, smelling his cologne though masked by his sweat. All he’d done was merely put the suggestion into her head and already she could feel the familiar crawl of heat up her neck, spreading to her face. Well representative of the burning sensation of her skin. She wondered if he knew of the power he had over her, if any of her messages ever made it to him. Not literally of course, but all of the signals. How one touch from him covered that patch of skin in a brand of goosebumps- that power. If he was asking she would probably do anything for him. That power.  
So of course she acquiesced, letting out a small ‘okay’ and gathering her things to leave, getting to the elevator before turning back around.  
“If either of you get into any trouble. Call me.”  
Her gaze flickered between both of the men. Diggle nodded his head.  
“Yeah, will do.”  
“Call if you need anything,” Oliver offered.  
“Yeah.” She let a small smile linger between them before she turned around and left.  
“Book a dentist appointment,” she heard Diggle call as the doors closed in front of her. She rolled her eyes in response, on principle, knowing he couldn’t see.

—

The morning was quiet and Felicity slept soundly, lying on her stomach, her face pushed into her pillows, blankets bunched around her middle, hair sleep-draped across the pillows. The room was dark save for the lines of light creeping in through the gaps of her drawn shut curtains. All of her devices were on do not disturb, not a beep nor bleep sounded from them; it was the epitome of peaceful. 

It didn’t last for more than a minute longer.

She woke to the sound of a large sudden BANG. She rolled over and sat up, alert, eyes trained on her door as her right hand fumbled on the bedside table for her glasses. Was it a BANG or more of a clatter? Metal on metal? Or wood on metal? Wood on wood? She couldn’t tell. She was too out of it to recall the sound exactly, adrenaline making her head spin as she quietly climbed out of her bed. She massaged the side of her jaw left achy by her tooth. Thankfully it was mostly subdued from her rested night. Her hand dropped to her side as another creak sounded. She stopped her footsteps and listened, it was definitely a door, or multiple doors, she realised as she heard another one open. Her pantry? She was being robbed and someone went for the food first..? Somehow it was a comforting thought as she flicked a glance to all the electronics covering her room. As she reached her door and pulled it open slightly, she heard the suction pop of her fridge being opened. At least food was cheaper to replace than her TV, or her modestly expensive coffee maker. She felt for the umbrella she kept by her door and closed her hand around its middle sucking in a deep breath and groaning when the air made her molar burn. She gritted her teeth and opened the door, eyes fixing on the figure covered by the fridge door. She chanced a glance towards her floor, choosing the lighter of the timber floorboards, knowing the dark ones had a proficiency for creaking in a way that put horror movies to shame. 

Soundlessly, she moved toward the fridge, her peripherals trying to account for anything out of place. She was standing on the other side of the door when she swung the umbrella towards the thief, landing the blow with a satisfying THUNK. As she brought her arms back for a second attack, she only pulled herself forwards as she realised the thief had caught it. Which was when she saw their face.  
“Oliver?” she yelled, still strung from the break- in, surprise clear in her voice, “what are you doing here?”  
“Felicity?” He rested the umbrella next to his side.  
She paced slowly in front of him, breathing heavily as she willed her panic to recede and her tooth to stop aching.  
“You don’t get to sound surprised. This is my apartment.”  
His eyes widened slightly at her tone of voice.  
“I didn’t hear you get up.”  
“Well you woke me up when you broke into my apartment.” Thankfully her tone had taken a little lighter as she continued, “which in hindsight is odd because you’d think you’d be stealthier given your line of work.”  
He looked vaguely amused, “You need better locks on your windows.”  
His smug ignorance of her anger only saw to reverse whatever sedation Felicity had just regained.  
“What are you doing here?”  
“Making you breakfast.” He pulled the packet of bacon out of the fridge, Felicity’s forehead creased, “and then taking you to the dentist.”  
She laughed sardonically, “No. You’re not.”  
“Felicity,” His tone beckoned for her to reason and to not argue back. She ignored it, as she usually did.  
“I have to go to work.”  
“I already called in sick on your behalf.”  
The audacity.  
She narrowed her eyes at him.  
“That’s not your decision to make Oliver,” she scolded, hurt by the small betrayal.  
He closed the fridge and walked over to her stove, still intent on cooking breakfast obviously.  
“I make my own choices Oliver, and I will deal with the consequences of them,” she stressed, walking over to get the clove oil out of the medical cupboard she had it stashed away in, “even if that means I have to permanently have a clove oil compress stuck to my tooth- I’m sure they could surgically implant it. Although some wounds can adapt and become immune to treatments after continual use...” she trailed off to herself, pondering that point as she applied the liniment.  
She could tell by the way Oliver was slowly shaking his head that he had an amused smile on his face. He turned around to face her, letting the butter melt across the slowly heating pan.  
“Hey,” he said softly, walking closer to Felicity to take her hands, causing her to duck her head, “I don’t want to make you do anything that you don’t want to do.” He let his hand fall to her cheek tilting her focus to him, “but I don’t want to see you hurting,” _because that hurts me_. His head was working overtime to try and find the right words, currently struggling to find the ones that would convince her. It was his chance to look at the floor, but he brought his eyes back to hers quickly dropping the hand that was against her face back to his side.  
“One of the things that you have taught me, is that being stubborn rarely helps.” He saw her eyes soften slightly at the edges in hearing that she had actually taught him something, “and there is only so much clove oil you can put on that before it stops working.”  
She fidgeted under his stare and he couldn’t help but notice how the edges of her lips curled up slightly.  
“Felicity,” his tone returned to its usual cadence, “We’re having breakfast and then getting you to the dentist.”  
She sighed in defeat.  
“I really don’t like needles.”  
“I will be with you the whole time.”  
“Okay.”  
He thought more convincing would be required.  
“Okay?” It was his turn to be surprised.  
“Well it’s not like you take no for an answer.”  
He smiled indulgently, his charm almost always getting him his way. Except for this time when it had been his sincerity. He turned his attention back to the pan.

“What are you making for breakfast?” She asked, hoisting herself up to sit on the counter next to the stove.  
“Bacon and eggs.” He spread the bacon across the pan, letting it start to pop and sizzle.  
“How did you get into my apartment?” She asked leaning across to turn her coffee maker on.  
“Through the window.”  
“What? Picking the lock on my front door was too easy?”  
“No, but I know your front door creaks and I didn’t want to wake you.”  
She laughed, “well coming in the window ticked off that box didn’t it,” she responded sarcastically.  
He let out a small chuckle as he continued to push the bacon idly around the pan.

An hour and a half later they were sweat stuck to faux leather chairs, illuminated by the overly fluorescent strips of light across the roof. The silent lull decorated only by the ornaments of ringing phones and whispered conversations between people. The linoleum under foot popped up and down against the concrete with every nervous tap of Felicity’s foot creating an intermittent rhythm contrasted by the tapping of her pen against the clipboard. She read over the patient form, her eyes skittering across the page struggling to absorb anything, her pace gradually sped up.  
Oliver brought his hand over to rest atop hers.  
“Hey,” he said softly, her face jolted to the side to face him, “it’s going to be okay.”  
“Sorry. Waiting rooms give me the hebeegevies. They’re just so clinical and way _way_ too clean.”  
Her eyes still searched the room for an object unknown.  
With his other hand Oliver took the clipboard off of her and rested it on his lap taking her other hand.  
“Okay. Well. Let’s not think about that right now.”  
“Kind of hard when we’re here,” she muttered.  
“Look at me.”  
She met his eyes reluctantly, feeling the weakness and the fear projecting through them.  
“What’s your name?”  
She bunched her eyebrows up at him, “What?”  
“What’s your name?” he repeated.  
“Oliver you know what my name is,” she replied, “some days I think you have an obsession with it... slightly,” she added as a mumble to herself.  
He looked down at the sheet and letting one hand go picked up the pen.  
“I don’t think that’s going to fit.”  
Felicity laughed quietly realising what he was doing and leaned slightly into Oliver to read the next question.  
“Address?”  
“You should know that too because you broke into my apartment this morning,” she whispered.  
Oliver shook his head lightly and laughed, noting her address on the paper.  
“Birthday?” He asked next.  
She pressed her face further into the side of his shoulder.  
“Twenty- first of-“  
“September 1988,” he interrupted to finish.  
“Yep.” 

Felicity understood that this performance was all a part of him attempting to distract her from where she was, what she was about to do. While also being productive and completing the necessary paperwork. It was also nice to have an excuse to be close to Oliver, leaning against him to see the paperwork. Not that she needed an excuse, she would happily lean against him whenever, wherever, for whatever reason. Right now, she suspected their proximity was more so the catalyst for calming her thoughts than all of his questions. She only lifted her head from him when he had to take the clipboard back to the receptionist. 

“Thank you,” she said upon his return.  
He offered her a smile in return.  
“Thank you for letting me bring you here.”  
“You will not be saying that when I’ve got your hand in a vice grip as they’re stabbing needles into my mouth,” she grumbled lightly.  
The sides of his lips quirked up. Rambling Felicity was one of his favourite Felicity’s; completely unfiltered and honest, usually with some innuendo thrown in accidentally.  
“Not that I would be holding your hand,” she rushed out, “that wouldn’t be necessary. You said that you’d be with me the entire time but I know that doesn’t include holding my hand as they puncture holes into my gums...” she trailed off into a gulped swallow.  
Oliver’s hand moved to cover her left, gently making its way from the top side to the palm, nudging it up so that he could interlock his finger with hers. Felicity felt instantly sedated, if not quite taken aback by the intimate act of intertwined fingers.  
“Felicity.” Her name felt heavy on his tongue. “All I’ve ever wanted to do since coming back is to help people. That’s why I do what I do. You know that.”  
She gave a gentle nod of her head to match the atmosphere of his voice. Every word spoken like a weighty confession.  
“And you know better than most, that often I can’t help the people closest to me.” He sighed and looked down, as if frustrated at getting off track, head momentarily sucked into memories of past failures. “I can’t get rid of your pain, but, if I can help by being here, by holding your hand. Then I’m gonna do it.”

Felicity willed the blush creeping up her neck to disappear. She wanted to duck her head to evade Oliver’s gaze, but as per lately something held her there, staring back, trying to decipher whatever message he was trying to send. Like a paper plane flying through a gush of air, it never reached its destination.  
“It’s just a tooth, Oliver,” she jolted out. Her knee jerk reaction as she came out of her Oliver induced trance, “but,” she paused squeezing his hand, “thank you.”  
“Of course.”  
A beat. A moment. The more paper planes he threw, the more caught up she got in him and not them.  
“Felicity Smoak?” A voice called out.  
She whipped her head around to face the voice, a young woman dressed in dental scrubs.  
“Yes. That’s me.”  
“Hi, my name’s Margie. If you’ll just follow me.”  
Felicity picked up her bag took a shaky breath, and with her hand still in Oliver’s she followed the beckoning woman. 

As they entered the treatment room Felicity took a seat in the dental lounge. The white seat structure the epicentre of the whole room; beam lights dangled above it, chairs pulled beside it, trays featuring the instruments of this torture, laid evenly spaced on the arms extending out from it. And now Felicity was sitting at the center of this fear- trap, feeling much like the prisoner being dragged into interrogation… or execution. One which she willing placed herself into, she reminded herself.  
“Felicity?” Oliver’s voice jarred her out of her nightmares.  
She blinked, re-focusing her vision to him.  
“Sorry. What were you saying?”  
“Margie here was just asking you about your tooth.”  
“Right, sorry,” she apologised to the dental hygienist, “I just get really nervous at the dentist, I don’t like needles and these rooms always creep me out.” She took a breath, “Sorry.”  
Margie gave her a sympathetic smile, “it’s alright. I was just asking when the ache started.”  
“Two days ago.”  
“Did you bump it or upset the gum in anyway?”  
She shook her head, “I was eating ice-cream and it just started burning, hasn’t stopped since.”  
“Okay,” she typed some things away on her computer, “Stay here, get comfy and Dr Michelle will be with you in a minute so that she can take a look and see what’s going on.”  
“Okay.” Felicity nodded adjusting slightly to wriggle down in the chair.  
She was trying to remember every technique she’d ever been told, or read on how to even out her breathing. She could feel her chest tightening like someone was pulling a rope around it. Oliver rolled his stool over to her and took her hand again.  
“It’s just a tooth. Right?”  
“Yeah,” was her shaky reply, “just a tooth and a really sore jaw.”  
“Think about an hour from now,” Oliver started, “think about walking out of here and then getting back into the car and driving away from here.” He sought out her eyes to burn his sincerity into them, “probably to the bunker,” he added after consideration, “either way eating Big Belly Burger and hopefully not having any future dentist appointments arranged.”  
“Speaking of when was the last time you went to the Dentist, because you’re not meant to eat for half an hour afterwards which you would know if you’d been recently,” she asked, attempting banter to relieve her anxiety.  
Oliver let his mind slip into thought, tripping over Lian Yu, Hong Kong, Russia. Everything afterwards. He didn’t have any dental work in his mental folders.  
“There wasn’t exactly a dentist on the Island,” he returned.  
“And not since you’ve been back?”  
“No. I- I’ve.” He sighed in defeat, “I’ve been busy.”  
Felicity “mmhmm’d” at him in the tone that meant she wasn’t buying his bullshit. But that didn’t worry him, as long as she was criticising him and not freaking out, he was fine with it.  
He laughed it off with a small chuckle, just petering out as Dr Michelle walked in with Margie in tow.  
“Hello, Felicity, I’m Dr Michelle,” she spoke in a warm but clinical voice. Full of soft edges and clipped interiors.  
“Hi.”  
“How are you feeling?”  
“Fine, other than having an army of small swords stabbing my tooth.”  
Michelle gave her a humoured smile before jumping back into the appointment.  
“Before we decide on further action to take, or if further action is needed, I’m just going to have a look at what we’re dealing with. Okay.”  
“Okay.”  
Her nerves were back and Oliver couldn’t do anything more than hold her hand and try not to get in the way. 

As Michelle took her place on the stool on the left of Felicity, she clipped the dental bib around her neck and lowered the back of Felicity’s chair down. Swapping out her glasses for generic ‘worn-by-everyone-who’s-ever-sat-in-this-chair’ sunglasses to block the light as they manoeuvred it over her mouth. The entire mirror wielding, plaque scraping procedure seemed only to make Felicity’s tooth and jaw hurt more. All of the poking around and the cold air of the suction only hurt her tooth, as an overbuild of saliva soaked off whatever clove oil was left on the gum. 

When they finally retracted their instruments of torture from her mouth it felt dry and sore.  
“So it appears that there’s quite a lot of decay and that has left a large cavity,” Michelle started.  
Felicity went to sit up slightly before thinking it better to remain lying down, she was confused.  
“But my dental hygiene is great. I always brush my teeth.”  
“Whether a person gets cavities has more to do with their diet and what types of food they eat than their dental hygiene,” Margie replied.  
“Okay so what are my options for fixing it?”  
“We can get this done today with a filling,” Michelle replied, “which I would highly recommend as it will only get worse without treatment.”  
Felicity nodded and glanced at Oliver to find reassurance in his eyes, as he gave her hand a squeeze.  
“Okay.”  
Margie exited the room to collect the items necessary for the procedure.  
“We will give you an injection to numb the area to make the procedure virtually painless.”  
“Injection?” Felicity echoed, fear shaking her voice, “Needles and I don’t mix so well.”  
“With the cavity as deep as it is, it will be much more painful to do the filling without it.”  
“Mmhmm,” Felicity squeaked out.  
“We can give you some gas to take your mind off it before we do the injection, and from then on you shouldn’t feel a thing.”  
“Okay,” she closed her eyes, “quick and painless,” she mumbled.  
Felicity ran her hand through her hair, as Margie walked back into the room holding a tray in her hands.  
As much as she willed her heartbeat to slow down she only succeeded in speeding it up. Her breathing came faster every time she tried to inhale slowly. Margie and Michelle pottered about setting up the room.  
“Felicity,” Oliver started, “hey look at me.” she opened her eyes, “you can do this. It’s just a tooth. You have faced up to so much more than that.”  
She returned a small smile through tight, nervous lips.  
Margie pulled a mask down and placed it on Felicity’s face.  
“Just breathe.”  
She did. 

Everything faded out, untied her knotted nerves and uncoiled her anxiety, it evened out her breathing. Her mind lulled into space, throwing all her fears away, out of her orbit. Her mind and body were left zen.  
And giggly.  
“What’s so funny?” Oliver asked, entertaining her current state.  
“You know, some places they call this the green whistle,” She giggled, “And that’s funny because I know the green arrow.”  
Oliver chuckled nervously, trusting Felicity wasn’t about to accidentally out him right there and then.  
“He’s a good guy you know. He gives the city hope and he protects it, very heroic, very handsome… He does a good job. Just an all ‘round nice guy,” her words didn’t fly out as they usually did, instead they were slowed and spacy. “Still needs work on his cover stories though, they’re as bad now as they were when we met.” She paused for a moment, “Still care about him though, always have,” she was talking to the room and herself as though no one else was there, “I really _care_ about him,” she said, her initial hit fading and her words slowing down, “a lot.”  
Felicity could tell the gas was making her a little loopy and her words unpredictable, which wasn’t abnormal, but she wasn’t in the right state of mind to care for their implications. So they let her words hang between them for the rest of the procedure, in the way they always had after these moments. They both knew it didn’t mean to come out and didn’t know what to do with it afterwards, other than nothing. It was a loose sheet of paper accidentally shot out, not as a plane but as a ball, crumpled and brutal and unwaning in the wind, reaching its destination.

As Michelle started her work, Oliver came to discover the reality of Felicity’s aforementioned vice grip. Her hand clasped around his like something was trying to bind them together. It loosened after the injection was over, and slowly as she became used to the jolty sensation of the drill on her tooth, she let their fingers fall to tangle loosely together.

The whole procedure was over and they were out of the clinic, walking to the car less than an hour later. It was not unusual for Felicity’s rambles to hint at her more than platonic feelings towards Oliver, but she always cut herself off before saying too much. Her unencumbered mind had let out more than she usually would. He’d lie if he said the word care wasn’t echoing around in his mind, in her voice, her soothed, drugged-up tone. Even in her state of mind, he knew some part of her had chosen it specifically because it was always his replacement word for when he didn’t want to say something else. _I think it’s just better to not be with someone that I could really care about._ He meant love, better to not be with someone he could really love, as fully as his heart could allow. And part of him knew that that was what she meant as well. 

Felicity stopped as they got to the car and turned to Oliver.  
“Thank you,” she started, “for helping- making” she corrected, “ for making me do this.”  
“You would’ve done the same for me.”  
“I would’ve _tried_ to do the same thing for you. But we both know you’re too stubborn for your own good.”  
“Well. Yeah,” he let out a blurt of a chuckle and smiled, the kind of smile that lit up his whole face, “but,” he took her hands gently into his, “that's what we do for the people that we _care_ about.”  
She stepped closer to him, the way he took her hands before speaking made her think there was a second meaning to his words. Like there often was when he spoke soft words to her like this. She looked up from their hands to his eyes and she knew she was right. He didn’t mean _care_ how everyone else meant it; in its traditional sense. He meant love. Like she did earlier, partially high on happy gas.  
“Yeah,” she was leaning closer into him, “that is what we do when we care about people.”  
There was a sparkle of understanding between them. Oliver’s lips quirked up and Felicity felt herself draw her lips to his, entranced in the moment. She and Oliver had skirted around this thing of theirs for much too long. He responded by melting into her rhythm, wrapping an arm around her to pull her close. Felicity could feel her heart race, pressed flush against Oliver’s chest, braced by his arm her world spun, her world tingled… 

Or was it just her lip tingling?  
Tickling?  
She pulled back, small excerpts of laughter littering the space between them.  
Oliver’s eyebrows creased in confusion.  
“Wha- what?”  
“It tickles,” she said through giggles.  
“Tickles?”  
“The left side of my mouth is still numb, so- it tickles and feels weird.”  
He smiled endearingly at her, “How’s the tooth?”  
“It feels fine. But I suspect that's due to the anaesthetic that evidently hasn’t worn off yet.”  
“So is it worth the payoff?”  
“Mhmm,” she hummed leaning into kiss him again, “definitely.”  
“Good to know.”

They tried not to make out in the car park of the Dental Clinic, but they weren’t wholly successful. Because then they could read the paper planes; all of them. Reading different variations of _‘I care about you’  
‘You’re important to me’  
‘I trust you’  
‘You’re my partner’  
‘You’re the best part of me’  
‘I love you’ _

“I love you.”

I  
and  
Love  
and  
You

“I love you too.”


End file.
